Susan Muranty’s new track, Summer Moon, is an experience in subtle transcendence. This isn’t just another pop ballad clinging to the banalities of love, desire, or heartbreak.
Instead, it offers a masterclass in the poetry of the human condition, framed against the timeless, almost supernatural, beauty of the night sky. Like any decent work of art, Summer Moon doesn’t shout for attention. It waits for you to notice, to lean in, to immerse yourself in its unfolding.
The song opens simply—an unadorned guitar strum, almost too clean, too quiet, but there’s an intimacy in that opening moment, a clue to what’s coming. Muranty’s voice enters, and there’s something about it that disarms. It’s confident, sure, but not in a way that overpowers. It’s the confidence of someone who understands the complexity of emotions but refuses to let them overwhelm her.
‘Darkness falls like a blanket,’ Muranty sings, and immediately the listener is thrust into her world, where suburban sirens meet the ancient, primal rhythms of nature. The chorus is a catharsis, a release of tension that builds quietly through the verses. ‘I’m not singing lullabies, no way. I’m throwing off the night into the Milky Way,’ Muranty declares, and it feels like a liberation, both musically and emotionally. There’s something about the way the chorus swells, with layers of instrumentation building beneath her vocals, that creates a sense of expansion.
The production is deliberately subtle, blending retro textures with contemporary pop sensibilities, but never in a way that detracts from the song’s core essence. The beauty of Summer Moon lies in its lyrical content. Muranty is a storyteller, and here she wields her words with precision. She doesn’t simply describe a night under the moon—she evokes it, conjuring images of moonbeams, wild tides, and midnight blue streets, all while subtly weaving in the human desire for connection.
‘‘ It’s a track that doesn’t demand attention but earns it through its honesty and the richness of its storytelling.
‘I know you’re out there somewhere, under the summer moon,’ she sings, and suddenly, the song becomes more than just a personal reflection; it becomes a universal longing, a shared experience of searching for something or someone under the same moonlit sky. Muranty’s Summer Moon is a reminder that music can still be a space for reflection, for imagination, for the quiet but relentless pull of emotions.
It’s a track that doesn’t demand attention but earns it through its honesty and the richness of its storytelling. In the end, Susan Muranty doesn’t just sing about the summer moon—she pulls us into its orbit.
LISTEN TO SUSAN MURANTY HERE:
Comments